


Through My Fingers

by morvish



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 04:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13159548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morvish/pseuds/morvish
Summary: Five times Lance found himself overthinking everything, and the one time he found Keith overthinking it all.





	Through My Fingers

1.

Lance stared at it.

He weighed it carefully in his hand, and turned his head to the other.

He stared at that too.

“Kid,” said a gruff voice. “Ya gonna pick one or whut?”

“I’m not a kid,” mumbled Lance automatically, not looking up from his choice.

One was a blue, sparkling box that seemed to contain a miniature cosmos inside its shimmering walls; the other was a pair of mittens with cat faces on them, and the label said they were “space-proof!!!”

“What,” Lance looked up at the stall owner, who was glaring at him beneath a deepset brow with three murderous eyes. “Uh, what does ‘space-proof’ mean?”

The stall owner chewed listlessly at the piece of what looked like leathery wood he had perched between his teeth, and rolled it to the other side of his mouth.

“Exactly what it says, kid,” he replied eventually, somehow looking even more murderous than before. “Proofs ya from space.”

Lance raised an eyebrow.

“See, the thing is – I have to buy a gift for someone,” he said. The stall owner continued to chew at his wood. “And she’s – well, it’s a tough one. It’s like a birthday gift, but well – well, we think it is. She didn’t really explain how Altean birthdays, or years, or how anything worked really, but my friend, he just kind of put a date on the calendar and she said that would do. So it’s her birthday gift.”

Lance looked between the two options again.

The stall owner spat something dark and viscous into a pan that Lance had almost picked up earlier, thinking it was a fancy pan for buying. There was a thick squelching noise as the stall owner continued to chew his wood, still giving Lance the most ‘Just-Buy-Something-And-Leave-Me-Alone’ vibe Lance was sure anyone could muster.

“I could buy her something pretty – like this box,” he jostled the blue cube, which glittered sharply in response, like a magical starry snowglobe. “Or I could buy her something practical, like the gloves.” He waved the gloves, and watched the cat whiskers wibble along. “Oh man, these aren’t real cat whiskers are they?”

“Whut’s a cat?”

“Never mind.”

Lance tried putting the cat mittens on the table, and pretended he would just be walking away with the box. Then he put the box down, and picked up the cat mittens.

Nothing felt right.

“See, part of the problem, sir, is that I don’t necessarily trust this label,” Lance started again, as he picked up the cat mittens for the seventh time. “I mean, what does space-proof even mean!”

“I told ya, it means what it means!” The stall owner had sat back down in his plastic-looking lawn chair at Lance’s fifth or sixth pick up and put down of the items. He had spat four more times since then too, each spit more aggressive and desperate than the last.

“It just seems like a con,” Lance said. “I mean, it just doesn’t even mean anything.”

“Just standing there, insulting my wares,” muttered the stall owner.

Lance held up the mittens. “If I get her these, I’m basically just getting her gloves, right? Because there’s no way they’re actually space-proof. So if I’m just getting her cat gloves, I’m basically just getting her something cute to have. I’m pretty sure she already has normal gloves. So I may as well get her the box, right? Because that way it’s something even better than just cute. It’s cool.”

He glanced down to where the box had disappeared.

The stall owner was on his feet for the first time in a long while, and Lance noticed how much of the leathery wood had been ground down in that time. It was a lot.

Beside him, Keith was paying for the cosmos cube.

“Keith, no,” said Lance.

Keith gave him a sideways glance. “Keith, yes,” he replied. “Just get the mittens, Lance. I watched you here for fifteen whole minutes.”

Lance looked sadly down at the mittens in his hand.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll get these.”

“No, you won’t,” said the stall owner. “You’re banned from my stall.”

“But-”

“Forever.” The stall owner gestured a pincer towards Lance. “Now go.”

Lance flung the mittens onto the stall table. “How dare you, sir, I am a paladin of Vo-”

But before he could say anything more, Keith had his elbow in a tight grip, and was leading him away from the stall in a determined march.

“Hey,” Keith grunted, keeping his voice low and tightening his grip on Lance’s elbow, shouldering him slightly, as the crowd of people at the market pushed against them. “How many arguments do you end with you telling a stranger who hates you that you’re Voltron?”

Lance felt his cheeks burn.

“None,” he said. “Thanks to you, I guess.”

Keith pulled Lance aside into a nearby alley, where he crowded Lance in against a skip. Lance felt his face grow even warmer as Keith’s brushed his own in the tight space.

“Lance,” Keith pleaded. “You can’t let your ego get the best of you.”

Lance sighed in annoyance, casting his gaze down to the peaty ground. Some garbage was strewn underneath their feet, which were nearly touching. Clearly somebody had just chucked some into the alleyway without checking to see whether it made it to the dumpster.

Keith raised a warm hand to Lance’s shoulder, and squeezed when Lance raised his eyes to meet Keith’s.

“Please,” he said, and Lance could feel his breath on his cheek as he spoke. “Please promise me you won’t. I know you mean well, but we’ve got to be so careful right now. We’re close to defeating Zarkon, we all know it, and we can’t afford to lose any points with the rest of the universe.”

Lance hadn’t noticed himself stop breathing, until he was staring into Keith’s dark brown eyes and realised there was a strangely comforting numbness in his chest. He broke eye contact quickly.

Lance wiggled Keith’s hand off his shoulder. “Fine, whatever.”

Lance pushed past him to get back to the marketplace, despite feeling like he could spend eternity squished into a stinky, grimy alley with Keith. But he still needed a present for Allura, and Keith had stolen his rightful gift.

“Hey,” called Keith. “We can give her the box from both of us.”

It wasn’t until later that Lance really understood the full body shiver those words gave him.

* * *

2.

Lance was pacing. This was something he had found himself doing a lot more of recently, especially after Hunk was kidnapped. He had come back eventually, not without a lot of stress and tears and change, but after that episode, Lance couldn’t break the pacing habit.

He would pace in twisting turnabouts of whatever room he was in, very suddenly doubling back on himself and marching worriedly in the opposite direction on a snaky route to his next double-back.

Sometimes he would stop and just stare at a patch of wall for a few minutes, then keep walking.

Sometimes he would mutter to himself, sometimes he would do math outloud, sometimes he would count days.

Hunk was sat in the room with him, occasionally looking up to check on Lance’s progress, but mostly his calm focus was on the knitting in his hands. A gentle clack-clack, so congruent with Hunk’s presence that it should have brought Lance some modicum of chill - but even so, today he was burning up all of his bad pacing habits.

“Two days and fourteen hours,” muttered Lance. He tapped out the two days on a nearby wall.

Hunk responded with a gentle agreeing noise, but didn’t look up.

It had been two days and fourteen hours since he last spoke to Keith, which meant there was one day and two hours until the next time he would speak to Keith; when Keith would come out of the healing pod. He had been hurt pretty badly in his last mission, which was supposed to be a routine blast of the dormant automaton creatures the Galra left in numerous mountainous planets. They usually didn’t wake up as they were being destroyed, and even when they did they were slow and creaky and didn’t take much to take them down.

They had even started sending paladins out to get them alone. Keith even requested to go alone.

So when an alarm started bleeping in his helmet while Lance was doing some recon on an uninhabited planet nearby, he and Pidge raced to their lions to rush to the scene, confused as to what could have gone wrong.

Lance wrung his hands, and double backed quickly.

“One day, one hour,” he said with a quick glance to the clock.

Hunk clack-clacked in reply.

Lance double backed again, perhaps the quickest double-back of the day.

“The problem is I think I have a crush on Keith,” said Lance.

The clack-clack paused briefly, then continued, picking pace back up to its usual speed.

“No, I don’t have a crush on Keith,” Lance said, before Hunk could reply. “I don’t even know - it’s just - when I saw that automaton,” his throat was suddenly very dry, and he had a great need to sit down.

He slumped down next to Hunk, who looked at him with some sympathy.

“I don’t have a crush on Keith,” said Lance. “Because - it - how do you have a crush on somebody you love so much as a team member?”

Lance got back up and began pacing again before Hunk could even put down his knitting.

“Because, listen, when I saw that automaton bring its fist down, it felt like the world was ending in that moment. Like Voltron was ending, you know?”

Hunk did put his knitting down then.

“Lance,” he began, but Lance was already powering through.

“Maybe I do have a crush on him - sort of, separate to the Voltron stuff?”

Hunk sighed and tried again. “Lance.”

Lance paused in his march, before turning around to face Hunk.

“Hunk,” he said.

Hunk huffed a small smile. “He’ll be OK,” he said.

Lance stared at his feet.

“I know,” he said quietly. He knew that was all Hunk could offer him, but it didn’t feel like enough. “In one day, and one hour.”

Hunk watched him a moment longer, agreement and acknowledgement in his silence, then took up knitting again.

Lance leaned up against the wall, arms crossed. He closed his eyes, and breathed in and out.

For the last two days he had been busy with Coran, learning some more about ship maintenance. But Coran had ordered him to take a break for at least a day.

Lance went through the ship parts that he knew off by heart in his mind, he murmured their names as he went, and listed all possible faults he knew of, solving them as he did so.

There was a quick rapping at the open door, and Lance opened his eyes to see Coran.

“Afternoon fellas,” he said cheerfully. “Just thought you’d like to know that our Keith is waking up now. We did some checks and he’s stable and just needs bedrest now. We thought he might prefer to be conscious for, you know, life.”

Lance blinked, and felt his face go through various emotions.

He eventually settled on a polite smile.

“Thanks for letting us know, Coran,” he said.

Coran nodded, moustache bobbing. “Well, come and see him soon.”

Lance’s face drifted from polite to stricken.

“I can’t see him,” he whispered to Hunk.

“Yes, you can,” said Hunk.

Lance didn’t move. “Yes I can,” he said.

“That’s the spirit,” Hunk said, clapping him on the back.

Lance felt himself lift off from the wall and start walking to the door beside his friend.

“Maybe we shouldn’t overwhelm him if he’s not going to be at a hundred per cent,” Lance said in the corridor.

“That’s,” Hunk paused. “That’s a good point actually. Maybe you should go ahead.”

Lance dragged his feet.

“No, I’ll wait too. I only got to the Hufteia when I was going through ship parts just now. I should at least finish revising them all, otherwise my knowledge will all be off balance.”

Lance started to do a U-turn, but Hunk grabbed him by the shirt.

“I’m not going to force you to do anything, Lance,” he said. “But I think you need to see him.”

“I was supposed to have one more day, Hunk,” Lance cried. “A whole other day!”

“One more day to pace a-and worry, and make me stress-knit! This scarf is going to be full of anxiety now,” Hunk shook the offended piece of not-yet-attire at Lance. “Just go to him and tell him you’re glad he’s back with us, like a grown-up.”

Lance gulped. He was a grown-up. He had a crush on Keith. He was a grown-up with a crush on Keith.

He started pacing with a little push from Hunk, but this time pacing with purpose, towards Keith.

* * *

3.

For Lance’s nineteenth birthday, Allura let Lance join Keith on the planet he was currently doing his mission on. He hadn’t been able to speak to Keith for days, so he had been majorly excited.

That was, until he met Garj. Garj was a handsome, quick-witted, and smart-talking alien from this planet which seemed to be entirely made up of mountainous islands. He had been Keith’s guide for the past few days Keith had been there.

Lance hated him.

He was too sharp, and had an answer for everything. Also he didn’t laugh at Lance’s jokes, but not in a fun way like when he had first met Keith. In a mean way - like, OK, well like when he had first met Keith. But Lance knew now that Keith was just awkward, whereas Garj was doing it to make Lance look bad in front of Keith specifically.

They kept sharing inside jokes and giving each other meaningful looks, and Lance felt like a third wheel.

Then Garj had announced what their plan for the day was. They had to climb a cliff to get to an abandoned plane on top of a sea stack nearby.

“Why can’t we just take a ship to get it?” Lance asked.

Keith pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s - It’s not that simple,” he said.

Garj sidled up to them. “You can’t land a ship on these things. For one thing, there’s numerous conservation laws surrounding this one. For another, I reckon even Keith’s amazing flying abilities wouldn’t be able to land one.”

Garj gave Keith a wink, and although Keith didn’t respond at all to his compliment, Lance felt his innards curdle.

“I bet he could,” he muttered darkly, and Keith gave him an perplexing look that Lance couldn’t quite interpret.

“Well, I’m not,” Keith said eventually, when the silence between the three of them reached a peak. “So we’re climbing it. You’ll stay here, and then we’ll go back to the Castle afterwards.”

“Wait, why am I staying here?” cried Lance.

“There’s no point all of us going - it just needs one of us, and Garj. It makes sense for me to go, Lance.”

Lance hated how Keith said his name sometimes - like he was an idiot.

“I’ve never used this technology before, and I love climbing. And it’s my birthday! I’m coming.”

Keith gave him an appraising look.

“OK,” he said.

* * *

They were at the base of the sea stack when Garj approached him. Keith was checking the equipment, and going through instructions for it with Hunk over the comm system.

“Hey,” Garj said casually. Lance looked up. “Don’t hold Keith back.”

“Excuse me?” Lance exclaimed.

“You know what I mean,” said Garj, before turning and shouting to Keith about how he knew how to work the climbing equipment, so he needn’t bother checking.

And that is how, for Lance’s nineteenth birthday, he found himself, with a sick feeling in his stomach and heart, halfway up a cliffside. The wind whipped at his face, small sharp pebbles sporadically poured down to smack him on the head, and Keith balanced precariously on some even more treacherous route near to Lance’s own. Garj, of course, was infuriatingly good at climbing too.

Lance wiped his brow, because despite the wind and cold, he was sweating profusely from the effort of hauling himself up the cliffside. They had been given some Altean technology which made their hands and feet stick to the rock like magnets, so they could still climb. Though Lance knew at any given moment he could grab onto the cliffside, and he would stick there forever with little effort, but it was still - well, fucking terrifying.

He looked down and below there was a green, slushing sea below him, churning up waves and rocks like a grinder. It was impossibly loud, maddeningly loud; both the sea and the wind competing to scrape away at Lance’s brain. He had tried shouting to Keith a few times, but Keith hadn’t heard him. For all he knew, the opposite was also true.

Each swing of his arm was more and more painful the higher they got and the longer the ascent took. At least it was getting easier, fear-wise. The first twenty feet or so had been a terror-filled rise to what he assumed would be even more terrifying heights. What he had found instead was that he began to trust his decisions when it came to finding footholds more and more, especially with his sticky limbs. But he was growing tired and anxious to reach the top before nightfall.

Lance had been told beforehand by Coran to always look down, rather than up, because the ascent always looked too long. Looking down you could be proud of what you achieved, and Lance tried. He really did. But it didn’t take long before he looked up, and felt that mounting sense of dread within him boil into something more like panic.

He bit down on it and tried to keep going instead of thinking about it.

Looking over, he saw Keith and Garj climbing effortlessly, even managing to shout a few words at each other. They were well above Lance now, and seemingly without any concern at all. Lance was always in awe of Keith in this way.

Keith was impressive, and usually this inspired a sense of admiration and competition in Lance. But sometimes, when he was feeling particularly low, it made him jealous. Or worse, scared.

Lance shook his head and grit his teeth.

“No,” he whispered, though it was immediately snatched away by the wind.

He rested his forehead against the cliffside for a moment, took a deep breath, and kept climbing. He pulled his aching arm up above his head, and then the other one, and tried to find a rhythm again.

He stalled slightly when he caught a lucky snatch of Keith’s voice, just a shapeless cry, whistling past him with the wind. He looked up to see Keith with that angry look on his face. _That_ look.

The look he had whenever they bickered. Which was a lot.

Lance enjoyed it, but he was pretty sure Keith didn’t.

Why was Keith looking at him like that?

What had he done?

Next to Keith hung Garj with a smug, mocking look on his face. Garj turned to Keith to yell something, and Keith gave Lance one last look before turning around and continuing his ascent.

Lance let out a frustrated grumble and tried to quicken his pace.

When he looked up again, Keith was moving upwards again. Was Lance imagining it, or was he moving slower? Garj seemed to be gaining on Keith. Was it because of Lance?

Lance drew his brows together in annoyance, and felt hot anger in the back of his throat. He wasn’t _trying_ to hold Keith back. Which was exactly what Garj had told him not to do before they left.

What did Garj know anyway? Garj was just a random guy they met. Why did he feel like he could comment on their relationship?

* * *

When Lance finally made it to the top, he had made up his mind.

He batted away the hand Keith offered him, and said, “It’s over.”

Keith said, “Yeah, you made it. Well done.”

“Don’t patronise me,” snapped Lance, and he watched as Keith’s face changed as he registered what Lance had really meant.

They spent the plane ride back to their ships in silence, apart from Garj’s occasional smug comment.

* * *

4.

Lance and Keith were both older. They were both wiser.

They had spent a lot of time over the last year acknowledging they weren’t right for each other romantically, but they worked very well as team members - so, team members they would be. And really good ones. Lance was Keith’s right hand man, and Keith was Lance’s left hand.

So maybe they no longer trusted each other with so much personal stuff, maybe they had broken that particular glasshouse of friendship. But they trusted each other with stuff that mattered, like their lives, and the weird inter-galactic tax returns they had to fill out now.

They worked well together, especially now that they were helping train each other.

Keith had made an offhand comment about how useful it would be to have more sharpshooters as good as Lance in Voltron, and Lance had said he could give Keith some pointers. In return, Keith was giving Lance regular butt-kickings in the training centre.

Keith had been out with Lance on a few sharpshooting missions before, but this one was actually important. This one could determine the fate of the universe.

“Lance, which one’s the shoot button again?” whispered Keith, clearly not taking this as seriously as Lance. Although, then again, they had been lying there for roughly three hours.

“Shh,” replied Lance with a small grin, adjusting his positioning slightly.

“You’re the one who keeps tapping your finger against the trigger,” whispered Keith, and Lance could hear the smirk on his face too.

“I’m allowed,” hissed Lance. “I’m the expert at this.”

Keith nudged him with his shoulder a little more aggressively than Lance thought he would.

He choked down a chuckle in case they really did get heard by any of the Galran soldiers they were watching from their hatch up above.

They were waiting for Allura and Hunk to arrive, which should be any moment now, to perform their diplomatic duties. They were going to offer the Galrans the chance to peacefully surrender, and the opportunity for any Galrans who wished to leave the Galran army.

Nobody expected anything serious to kick off, but Lance had an uneasy feeling in his gut. He was convinced something bad was going to happen. He had wanted to talk to Keith about it, maybe assuage some of the anxiety - but, for what had to be various reasons, it didn’t feel right to do that. Keith seemed so relaxed about the day, he would probably just think Lance was being prissy.

Lance shifted slightly again, and looked through the sight of his bayard.

The world became very small and refined. Lance loved how straightforward shooting was; find the chink in the armour, find the rogue in the crowd, find the soldier who was about to attack his teammate.

He was worried that that was what Keith was lacking from his sharpshooting training. Keith preferred to be in one place in a battle; generally at the front, fighting the big bad. It was just his way - efficient anger, pointed straight at where he could take out the worst evil. But the sharpshooter had to be everywhere.

Lance noticed he was tapping his trigger again, and stopped.

The safety was on, and he was _pretty_ sure he’d never press the trigger by accident. But it wouldn’t make a great story to take back to the Castle. Getting caught in the vents on a Galran ship after days of covert operations to determine the best place to wait.

Fingers crossed, they wouldn’t need the sharpshooters.

He snuck a glance at Keith, and saw him gazing seriously down at the room where Galran soldiers were making preparations for the arrival of Allura and Hunk. Some were gathering nervously around the edges of the room, aware their arrival was imminent. Keith’s own eyes seemed to be set in a particular place, maybe on a particular soldier, but Lance couldn’t figure out where.

Keith’s profile had always been so striking. His nose was sharp and beautiful, his intense eyes, and his eyebrows, though they made fun of him for them sometimes, made Keith look unbelievably formidable. Lance kind of loved it.

Lance let out the minutest of sighs, and Keith started immediately.

“What is it?” he whispered, his eyes sharp and concerned.

“Nothing,” replied Lance, turning back.

Keith seemed to growl under his breath. “Lance,” he muttered.

Lance dropped his head. “I just have a bad feeling about today,” he said. “I don’t think it’s going to go well.”

Keith went quiet.

Lance looked up. “This is the part where you tell me I’m being ridiculous, and everything will go well.”

Keith made an immediately aborted attempt at a sentence.

Lance’s eyes widened.

“Keith!” he hissed. “Tell me I’m being ridiculous.”

Keith’s eyes were wide. “I thought that you thought this would be an easy job.”

Lance dragged a hand down his face. “It will be if everything goes alright and if you tell me I’m being ridiculous.”

Keith paused, staring at Lance for a moment. He was only a foot away, and though they’d been shoved into the vent together for the past few hours, Lance only just realised how physically close they were. More so than they probably had been for a long time.

“You’re being ridiculous,” said Keith finally. But he didn’t sound convinced. And moments later he added, “But what if you’re not being ridiculous? You - usually have a good idea of what’s going on. So we need to focus. We need to figure out what we’re doing here. We need a backup plan if things go wrong.”

Lance almost laughed.

“If things go bad, we know what our job is. I mean, our job is only really a job if things _do_ go bad. _We’re_ the backup plan.”

Keith glared at the floor.

“I’m going to go down there,” he said at last.

Lance grabbed him by the arm, even though Keith hadn’t actually made a move. “No,” he cried, then hushing his voice, and praying to any space deities out there that nobody heard him, “No.

Keith was staring at where Lance’s hand was on his forearm as though Lance was some kind of slug creature with extra slime glands.

Lance squeezed his eyes shut, and removed his hand from Keith.

“We have a plan,” he said. “Ignore me.” He cracked open one eye. “Please.”

Keith nodded, and turned back to his gun.

Lance let out a deep breath, and turned back to his own.

“You’re overthinking it,” Keith whispered.

Lance brushed a piece of hair that was irritating his forehead out of the way.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“You overthink everything,” Keith said, somehow even quieter than before.

Lance felt some continental divides shift, and a deep chasm of sadness broke open inside of him.

“Yeah,” he whispered, throat sore.

* * *

5.

Lance had possibly never felt more uncomfortable in his life.

Dressed in a hot (and not in the good way) Altean suit, holding a glass of Scotch he’d accidentally accepted and hated, and talking to one of the most annoying people he’d ever met.

It was rich injustice that the first actual mission they had on Earth, a diplomatic event Lance had begged to be a part of, it was one of the worst events he had been to since defeating Zarkon.

Earth didn’t really understand what Voltron was, or what they’d done. Earth was still just Earth, but now it kind of knew it was part of some much wider alien landscape.

Lance had already been back a couple of times to see family, and it had been wonderful, but going as a paladin was a whole other experience, and Lance was hating every second. He felt just like he did every time his commander had yelled at him back at the garrison. Though he hadn’t really been able to place it back then, because back then his only priority had been to persevere - to prove to people the excellent pilot he was. So every setback had been somebody else’s fault in his mind, every failure had been a wrong with the world that he had to fight.

But now he no longer felt that urge to fight, because he knew his worth. He had proven it time and time again. So now he could place that feeling that had simmered under all that facade.

He felt small.

There were very few people at the dinner who actually understood the full extent of Voltron’s efforts and sacrifices, and didn’t think they were just some strange silly lion pilots. He was bottom of the pile at this event, despite the event being for Voltron’s sake.

The man standing in front of him was a prime example.

“So, I said to the chap, ‘If you even touch one hair on his head, I’ll have you,’ and he totally backed off immediately,” the guy was slightly taller than Lance, and used the extra inch to his advantage when looking down at Lance by stretching his eyebrows as high as they could go. Lance knew when somebody was being condescending to him. He wasn’t an idiot.

Lance bit back the multiple retorts that were bubbling away in his head.

_What does “I’ll have you” even mean, you Xznly Squiwl?_

_Why do you say “chap” when you’re not even British, you pretentious quizbag?_

_Who even_ are _you again?_

“That’s very impressive,” Lance said blandly, a non-smile stretching across his features as he reached for his drink from the bar.

“Yes,” said the man. Lance had forgotten his name - argh. “Well, I suppose being so high up in this new ‘Earth’ military division is very helpful in boosting my natural talents.”

The man used his fingers to indicate quotation marks around ‘Earth,’ which Lance was surprised about. He had assumed he was too posh to make any kinds of gestures.

“What do you think of the new military division?” Lance asked, sipping on his drink noisily - his only form of rebellion against this horrible conversation.

The man gave him a derisive look.

“Well, I think it’s very silly first of all. Secondly, I’m not entirely sure I’m allowed to tell you about it. What access level are you?”

Lance choked on his drink, and took a few moments of spluttering and mopping himself and the man up, before he could speak again.

“I haven’t explicitly been given an access level yet really,” Lance said truthfully, a sharp edge underneath his words. He knew the reason was because they were now the people who knew what was happening before Earth did, but he realised now that it was something they _should_ have been given.

The man pulled a sympathetic face.

“Oh, I really can’t tell you anything then, can I?” he said, patting his shoulder, and Lance reflexively cringed away, but thankfully the bar table stopped him from going too far and making it look purposeful. He made it look like he was just going to lean on the bar. “Gosh, and I thought your little Voltron group was meant to be doing the main scouting missions or something. It must be because you’re so new.”

Lance muttered, feeling both hot and cold with annoyance, “Yeah, only thousands of deca-phoebs old.”

The man gave him a startled look.

“Well, I don’t know what that means, but if it’s code for something, I should probably know.”

He looked at Lance expectantly, and Lance suddenly felt the weight of the moment begin to fall upon him.

In this moment, he could either choose to belittle this man and his measly achievements by explaining to him exactly what a deca-phoeb was, and explaining precisely who and what Voltron were. He could tell him how small _he_ , and not Lance, was. He could put this ignorant narcissist in his place.

Lance clenched his fist, trying not to let this guy see his distress.

Then he released his fist, and took a deep breath.

“Don’t worry about it for now,” Lance said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have matters to discuss with some other people.”

The man started. “Ah,” he said. “Uh, yes. Me too. I’m sure I shall see you around doing your Voltron thing, um - L-Lee?”

“Lance,” he corrected. “See you around, James,” he suddenly remembered in a moment of professional luck.

James blinked and moved away, and Lance got the feeling he had realised in that last moment that something was up.

But Lance had been courteous and friendly to somebody who _was_ pretty high up in the new military division they were supposed to be working with. He had kept good relations with someone he would have to know on a professional basis, whose opinion of him might matter in a crucial moment.

He wandered through the crowds in a pleased daze.

“Hey,” said a voice behind him. “I’m proud of you.”

Lance turned around to see Keith, the only other paladin here with him.

“Keith!” he cried out. “Did you see that? What a douchebag.”

“The way you dealt with him so easily was inspiring, Lance.”

Lance cried out with laughter.

“Easily?” he said. “Keith, oh Quiznak, that was so hard. You don’t even know. I could have flipped a table at him. I wanted to flip all the drinks off the bar.”

Keith punched him gently in the shoulder.

“I know it was hard for you, I was just feeding your ego. Take a compliment, Lance,” he laughed. “You made it look easy.”

Lance beamed. “Thanks, Keith. I love you- your feedback.”

Keith’s grin dropped into a concentrated expression Lance was much more familiar with, and Lance choked.

“Well, more swanning about and being modest to do,” Lance said, and swiftly turned away to do just that.

* * *

+1.

Lance reflected on the day while he lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling.

He was proud of himself for his behaviour. It had been a long time since he had made any major PR blunders, but it was still a feeling in the back of his mind that one day he would slip up and ruin everything.

He felt like he could put that feeling to rest now. Lance was a real proper professional paladin.

He avoided thinking about what he had nearly said to Keith.

It wasn’t worth overthinking about.

There was a gentle knock at the door, and Lance knew exactly who it would be.

Nobody else in this hotel but Keith would come knocking this late at night.

“Hey,” said Lance, quiet from the hush in the building, as he opened the door.

Keith stared at Lance for a moment, holding some sheets of paper in his hand. “Hey,” he whispered back. “Can I come in?”

Lance nodded. “Sure, yeah. What’s up?”

Keith wandered into Lance’s room, looking as though he was going to sit on the bed, then thought against it and stepped towards the other end of the room. Lance recognised anxious pacing when he saw it.

“Keith,” he said loudly, breaking Keith out of his daze.

“It’s the speech,” said Keith.

Lance waited for Keith to elaborate.

“It - I don’t think I should do it.”

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

Keith shook his head. “It’s not the speech - it’s me. Allura usually does this, I’m not cut out to be a speech...person.”

Lance uncrossed his arms.

“Keith, you’re - you’re a good speech person. Speech maker? Spe- aker? Speaker? You can make good speech. You know what I’m trying to say.”

Lance could see that despite himself, Keith was smirking.

“What’s the real problem?” Lance said.

Keith paced the room again, then kicked at the bedframe with his socked feet.

“I don’t know,” he replied irritably. “You tell me, you’re the one who gets these things.”

Lance crossed his arms again, and leant against the wall.

He watched as Keith went from position to position about the room, sometimes trying to sit but failing, and standing up again to pace.

“You’re overthinking it, Keith,” Lance said finally.

Keith glared at him.

“You are,” he said. “Just - pick up the speech. Read the speech to me. I promise with an audience it won’t seem as bad.”

Keith looked down at the now sweaty documents, crumpled in one of his hands.

“Why can’t you just do it?” he said suddenly, reaching the speech out to Lance.

Lance sighed dramatically, and smacked his head back against the wall.

“Keith, no,” he said. “Just read it out to me. It’ll be fine. You’ve done speeches before. The only thing that’s different is that this is Earth, and you’re - you’re just scared of Earth. But you _are_ from Earth, nobody wants to disown you. If anything - Keith, if anything, people here love you more than any of the other paladins. You’re amazing. You were a superhero here before you even joined Voltron.”

Keith rustled the papers uncomfortably.

“I know it’s hard,” Lance said, going to sit on the bed, near to where Keith was standing, having stopped mid-pace. “But just trust me. And if you can’t trust me, then at least - just, do the speech for me. Please.”

Keith took a deep breath.

“Fine,” he said. “OK.”

Lance had done a few speeches for Voltron before at a few planets, but generally he wasn’t allowed because he was too - and this was a direct quote from Allura - “flashy.” This is because of the one time Lance winked seven times at the audience during one of the speeches (Hunk counted). But he was good at it, and so helping Keith wasn’t too difficult.

Imagine the audience naked, and if not naked, then imagine them all as babies. Pretend to be a character, pretend you’re not yourself, but someone else doing the speech. Most of all, Keith was talking about something he cared about - so that was what he needed to focus on.

“And so, with this deeply connected relationship, we will strive to push the universe forward together.”

Lance stared at Keith as he finished the last sentence.

Keith looked up from the paper.

“How was that?”

Lance nodded, then realised that wasn’t an answer.

“Keith, it was perfect.”

Keith sat down on the bed with a restless flump.

“Thanks, Lance.”

They sat there for a while, and Lance just let Keith breathe for a while.

“You feel any better?” he asked.

Keith turned to Lance, and sighed.

“Yeah, I guess. I still just want to get it over with.” Keith’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hey, earlier - did you mean to say you loved me?”

Lance started, and tried to say something but all that came out of his mouth were wordless stutters.

Keith threw his hands in the air. “Never mind, You don’t need to explain yourself.”

Lance glared into the middle distance.

“No, listen, Keith - what I _said_ was that I love your feedback - it was really nice of you to say and…”

He petered out.

This was silly.

It wasn’t worth overthinking about - and the reason it wasn’t worth overthinking about was because he knew how he felt. And he didn’t want anything to get in the way of that again.

“You know what, Keith,” said Lance, still staring at the wall opposite him, rather than the man next to him. “I do love you.”

He felt Keith go still.

“And not just as a teammate, which I do. But in, you know, the big way.”

There was silence again, this time only broken by Lance repeating, “the big way,” quietly.

He finally turned to look at Keith, who was looking at his hands in his lap.

Keith sensed Lance’s movement, and turned to look back at him.

“Well,” he said. “This was a good distraction from the speech, I guess.”

Lance almost laughed.

“Hey, look, don’t - don’t even worry about it. It’s my thing. My thing I ruined, and I don’t want anything to make you worry more than you already are right now. You’re going to be great, Keith.”

Keith shook his head, a small smile on his face.

“Lance,” he breathed disbelievingly.

Lance half-shrugged, and looked away again, sure the conversation was over. But Keith touched his arm and gripped it firmly.

“Lance - I think it’s all going to be OK.”

Lance reflexively put his hand on Keith’s forearm, heart beating fast, tummy flipping suddenly, and he revelled in the gentle touch he hadn’t felt for so long.

“The speech?” he said, carefully and quietly, trying not to let his voice waver.

Keith squeezed his arm and grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry, thanks, idk. i know this isn't my best work but it's taken me so long and i was absolutely determined to finish it.it's a little self-indulgent because i see a lot of myself in lance, so the overthinking is a lot based on my own anxiety and memories of being a teenager which is maybe the worst most paranoid time of your life. though i never really acknowledge this in the fic, but i do hc that lance has adhd/anxiety.
> 
> this will probably be my last ever work for voltron. thank you for sticking with me, i love you all x
> 
> \+ the title is a reference to good grief by bastille, which is fitting bc they are my klance playlist, and lance was prboably so embarrassed by his overthinking that he would be watching these memories through his fingers


End file.
